Blissful Turmoil
by queenly
Summary: It was their symbiotic system. Perfection from all angles but a single fatal one; the angle in which Seto began to love Mariku. Dangershipping, oneshot. Smut.


**A/N: this is just some lame oneshot i wrote for a friend wayyy long ago. but it only has 6 days left in my doc manager, so why not post it. **

**ps i dont like this pairing but if you do then a great author to check out is choppedleeks. she wrote a handful of it & theyre all phenomenal.**

Mariku was not exactly positive as to why he enjoyed the feeling of being forced down against his meager will and ravished by an arrogant vexer. Seto hadn't a clue why he craved to leave bite marks, bruises and hand prints across his dark toned body. The two were interdependent; one relying and the other supplying.

Issues that festered within Mariku's mind plagued him, and he couldn't shake the constant ragged feeling of obligatory death that scampered right at his heels. Similarly, Seto mused about Mariku's demise as well, jeering indifference to the matter sparked through to the outside, yet trembling within him and threatening to burst were feelings of unadulterated loathing. He couldn't let go of such an easy fuck-buddy, such an adversarial lunatic, such a real and raw experience.

'Just sex,' he reminded himself. 'Just a way to release my frustrations.'

Gnawing into Mariku's fleshy shoulder whilst he unmercifully pounded into him was a stress relief, sure, but more so a _feeling_, a feeling he could not describe or give a name to. Or more importantly, shake away.

He dared himself to say it aloud, shout the word as he came to his release, though he knew better of it. Mariku was no stranger to verbally sharing his affection toward Seto, persistently proclaiming his love for him at any possible time. Seto would become rapidly irritated by the constant admiration, shooing him away and ignoring his scraggly voices of endearment echoing through his skull while he worked on the tournament.

It was their symbiotic system. Perfection from all angles but a single fatal one; the angle in which Seto began to love Mariku.

More nights passed and more battles occurred, each time getting closer to the duel that would end the life of the only person Seto Kaiba could ever express sincere romantic affection for. The night just before Mariku's long awaited duel against the pharaoh, the spirit found another occupant to his bed, one which he hadn't been expecting. Normally it was _he_ who snuck into the other room when he was fired up.

He couldn't speak, for instantly a hand grasped his jaw roughly, clamping it closed and more than likely pressing bruises into his skin. Their lips connected, gnashing and snarling rather messily. Clothes were stripped and forgotten elsewhere. One major craving of Mariku's was to be dominated, completely taken charge over. Seto was more than happy to deliver the dominance.

He clawed down his sides with lethal nails, going so far as to draw droplets blood. Mariku was nearly immune to the stinging pain and focused more on the daggers that were chewing the base of his collar bone, lips licking and sucking and marking territorial hickeys.

Mariku placed a hand teasingly at the small of Seto's back, digging his claws across and making Seto hiss and roughly tug at the platinum spikes he held bunched in his fist. Mariku withdrew his hand, though still kept the sinister smirk.

After a while it grew tedious as Seto continued planting airy smooched along his neck and chest, and Mariku had to ponder why he was suddenly being gentle. Seto had allowed his mind to drift to thoughts of the next day. He wanted to believe that his paramour would prevail, though standing up to Yugi's _two_ Egyptian God Cards would be next to impossible. If this was their final night together, Seto intended to savour every second.

"I appreciate the tenderness, but do you think you could hurry it up a tad?," Mariku drawled from above him. "I'll go limp at this rate."

Seto growled ferally, pulling at his hair again with a heated demand of, "I didn't tell you to speak, did I?" That silenced Mariku.

An anger lingered behind after that. He'd wanted to savour the night, and instead he went back to showing no mercy, going at him hard and rough. Attacking his chest again with nips and licks made Mariku squirm beneath him, breath hitched. He quivered relentlessly when Seto's hot mouth moved lower, prickling his ivory pubic hair and traveling to his erect cock. He stopped instantly there, not caring if Mariku needed pleasure when he himself hadn't gotten any yet.

He rose to straddle Mariku's chest, placing his own dripping cock at his mouth and forcing it forward. Mariku tentatively licked at it, taking nearly the entire thing in when Seto urged, only relenting the slightest when Mariku nearly choked.

His was brought to a slow climax, cumming inside Mariku's mouth, seed dripping out into his chin. Instead of wiping it away, he delivered a sharp smack to his face, a throbbing hand print appearing instantly. Mariku hadn't been expecting the blow, though it was still welcome; his masochistic ways could never be repressed.

They kissed again, rough and vacant, and Seto could taste himself inside Mariku's mouth. Disgust discouraged him, but the fingers kneading at his slowly hardening crotch urged him onward.

He slapped the hand away, abruptly jamming a pointer finger into Mariku's asshole. Mariku's insides flamed with pleasure as he felt more digits squirm inside him, dry and scathing. What he craved. He groaned as Seto entered him, breaking through and submerging completely. It stung, it burned, it chaffed. It lowered his defenses, heightened his intoxication.

Seto clasped tightly to Mariku's arms, holding them above his head. His nails dug into his wrists, and Mariku hissed. Slowly Seto worked his hands up to be tenderly holding the other pair, continuing to rock his hips forward.

They each met their separate climaxes, Seto making no move to help Mariku reach his own. Hot bodies mingled together for a moment, panting and sweating and mildly mortified.

Seto hastily pulled away from him, undoing their tangled embrace, gathering up his clothing and shoving limber legs into tight jeans. Mariku lay silent, chest heaving, basking. Seto wavered for a moment, sneering at him, disgusted with his own actions.

As he was making a subtle exit, Mariku called after him with a lazy, "I love you."

Pausing, Seto sighed ruggedly. "...I don't hate you as much as you most likely think." With that he disappeared, waving away the end of the statement that never left his mind, 'and I don't want you to leave me...'


End file.
